


Lies and Affection

by poechild



Series: Prompts [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Ficlet, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Protective John, Russian Translation Available, Teenlock, balletlock, rugbyjohn, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poechild/pseuds/poechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock calls John after he gets beat up, and John is surprised at what he finds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies and Affection

**Author's Note:**

> [soldierjhwatson](http://soldierjhwatson.tumblr.com/) (ao3 nxdeed) asked: johnlock and 31?
> 
> ((31 is "You lied to me."))
> 
> [beachhousewildflower](http://beachhousewildflower.tumblr.com/) asked: "Please come get me" for teen!lock.... Preferably Sherlock asking John if you don't mind :)
> 
> [Теперь доступно на русском языке](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6893232) thanks to [Johnlockers_oduvanchyk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockers_oduvanchyk/pseuds/Johnlockers_oduvanchyk)!!

John feels his mobile vibrate in his pocket, distracting him from his driving.

He has just finished rugby practice and is looking forward to collapsing into his bed for twelve hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep. 

As the vibrations continue, John realises that it’s not a text, but a phone call. Only his mum ever calls him, and he knows he better answer unless he wants another “we need to talk” discussion about nothing in particular. 

John wriggles his hand inside his pocket, thankful that the stoplight has turned red in front of him. Hitting the speaker button before the light has a chance to change, he sets his mobile on his thigh and says, “Hello?” 

“ _John_.”

The deep baritone startles John, expecting the light and sweet voice of his mother on the other line.

“Sherlock?” John says, his surprised evident in his voice.

Sherlock’s voice cracks. “Please-come get me.”

“Sherlock, are you okay?” The light turns green, and John barely registers the change. He moves forward automatically, his mind focused on the words Sherlock is saying.

“I-I was leaving ballet practice, and-” Sherlock sniffs. “-and some guys from school saw me come out and-”

“What did they do,” John demands, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“My chest hurts, John. I think my ankle is broken, I can’t walk without it hurting.” John hears Sherlock choke out a sob, and the sound breaks John’s heart. “It _hurts_.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming right now. Stay where you are, I’ll get you.” John makes an illegal U-turn, turning his car around and towards the ballet studio.

“Thank you,” Sherlock whispers.

“Are they still there?”

“No, they left after I stopped fighting back.”

“I’ll kill them, I swear, for laying a single _finger_ on you-”

“Just come get me, _please_ ,” Sherlock despairs. 

“I’m almost there, love, I’ll be there in a minute.”

John glances down at his speedometer, noting that he’s going nearly 20 above the speed limit. Oh well. Sherlock’s safety is worth the risk of a speeding ticket.

Two beeps ring through John’s ears. He looks down again, to his mobile this time, and sees that Sherlock has hung up.

“ _Shit_.”

His anger quickly moves into concern, worst-case scenarios running through his head. He can feel his heart beating fast, his eyes flicking across his field of vision as if he could find Sherlock from this distance.

Finally, John arrives, not caring to find a spot inside the parking lot, instead killing the engine as soon as he drives onto the property.

“Sherlock?!” John calls as he leaps out of his car, slamming the door closed behind him. He races down the alley that run across the side of the building. “Sherlock, where are you!” John starts to worry in ernest. Is he unable to call out for help? Has he fallen unconscious?

John pulls out his phone and sends a text to Sherlock. For some reason, he might not be able to hear John’s yells, and John will use every available avenue he has to _get to Sherlock_.

_Where are you?_

John uses the brightness of his mobile’s screen to see the dark crevices of the alleyway, behind dumpsters and discarded trash. He hopes against hope that he’ll see Sherlock’s curls and pale skin in the faint light.

The mobile vibrates in his hand, startling John and almost causing him to drop it. 

_Across the street, in the restaurant.  
SH_

Unquestioningly, John whirls around until he spots the lighted front of the Thai restaurant in front of the ballet studio. He runs, pushing into the door and nearly falling flat onto the linoleum floor inside. He regains his balance, frantically searching his surrounds. All he can hear is his own heavy breathing. He doesn’t even register the waitress saying his name until she waves her hand in front of his face.

“This way please, Mr. Watson,“ John hears her say. 

“No, I need Sherlock where is he,” John pleas as he follows the woman into the restaurant, no doubt looking out of place and raggedy with his sweat-covered brow and agitated movements.

When he turns the corner into the main seating area, John spots Sherlock is sitting in a red leather booth, smiling like he thinks he’s oh so clever. 

“…What?” John breathes out. He looks Sherlock over but doesn’t see any blue and purple bruises, or red scrapes against his skin. Sherlock is as perfect as John knows he is. “You lied to me,” John says. Not a question, but a statement. 

His heart rate stars to slow down. The fallacy of the attack making him feel hurt and deceived.

“Don’t be absurd, I just gave you incentive to come here and have dinner with me. Is it such a crime to desire a date with ones boyfriend?” Sherlock says, his smile transforming into something smaller and gentler.

John stands there and stares, catching his breath, waiting for his brain to catch up with the words he just heard. After a moment, he starts chuckling, the ridiculousness of the situation almost hysterical. Combined with the adrenaline crash, John can’t help but laugh at his mad man. 

“You insufferable bastard,” John says with a smile. He places a hand on the table top to brace himself, leaving over and giving a kiss to Sherlock’s lips, tilting Sherlock’s chin up with his forefinger and thumb. 

He can feel Sherlock’s smile underneath his mouth, Sherlock’s joy seeping into him, calming him and filling him with affection. “I love you.” John pulls back to gaze into Sherlock’s eyes. “But if you had just wanted to go on a date you could have just asked.” 

Sherlock beams at him. “But where would be the fun in that?” 

John laughs again, dissolving into giggles as he slides into the seat across from Sherlock, entangling their legs under the table.

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

And Sherlock does.

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog](http://softlygasping.tumblr.com/post/149666165130/johnlock-and-31) on my [tumblr](http://softlygasping.tumblr.com)


End file.
